


Things We Can't Say

by Tangledupandsideways



Category: Lie to Me (TV)
Genre: Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, England (Country), F/M, Family Secrets, Forgiveness, Post episode: sweet sixteen, Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-08-09 17:00:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16453850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tangledupandsideways/pseuds/Tangledupandsideways
Summary: After her revelation about Finch, Gillian feels like she's lost Cal's trust. But Cal still puts her on a pedestal, revealing one of his own secrets, a secret he requests Gillian's help exploring to show her her place in his life.X-posted to FFN





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just a warning, chapters will be short and updates will be slow

Moonlight washed over the balcony of the Lightman Group, casting Gillian's face half in shadow. The rest of her remained bright, though tears dried on her cheeks in salted streaks that shined in the glare. Cal watched her from the doorway, pulling his sleeves down over his wrists as he moved away from the wall and the door slammed shut behind him. The sound echoed in the open space. Gillian turned to look at him with eyebrows raised. She made no move to wipe away her tears, her upset. Instead she smiled. It was smaller than the faraway stars but it was for him, burning a hole in his throat that remained even when he swallowed strongly.

Gillian had come here after telling him about Finch, removing herself from his embrace and his office. She did it like she didn't deserve it. And Cal was left to think of the man's- the coward's- forceful intrusion into her life, his threat and her lie. It was seven years she'd done it. Seven years she lied by keeping that hurtful truth locked up secret and tight behind the cage of her ribs, her teeth. Yet, he hadn't seen a fucking thing. She was a far better a liar than he had ever let himself imagine; he couldn't imagine her lying at all until the betrayal stung in his gut. It couldn't have been purposeful, Gillian making herself seem so poor at it so she could gain from the underestimation of her skills, it just couldn't. That was not Gillian. And he knew her. He did know her. He was sure.

Cal pushed the doubt from his mind, taking the few steps towards the railing she stood by. He kept enough distance between them to ensure her comfort and rested his elbows on the cool metal. Breaths passed between them in the blowing breeze and his eyes fell closed as he counted them. There was more she had to say. When she had stepped away from him in his office, he had watched her mouth twitch, watched her swallow down the words with a wash of silent tears and step further away from his forgiveness. She had wanted to make a confession, something painful and raw with truth. Cal had almost let himself hope but he knew it was too good to be true. Gillian might have had reasons for her actions but that was not one of them. He just wanted it to be. He just wanted.

It was only moments before Gillian broke the silence. Her body turned to face his, a jutted hip leaning her into the rail. Her chest rose and fell evenly but her fingers twitched closer as she stared. Cal's skin burned under the scrutiny. He didn't turn around. That would be worse.

"You must think the worst of me, huh, lying to you like that and so long?" she asked, clear in the flat end of her sentence that she expected no answer.

Instead, Cal watched from the corner of his eye as she crossed her arms, warming bared skin. Cal wanted to offer her a coat or lead her inside or something but didn't think she would appreciate it mid-thought.

"I know that trust is important to you and I understand that it'll take time to rebuild that. If you'll forgive me. I…" Gillian said.

Cal finally looked at her properly, dropping the mask, the tension. Tears rose to her eyes and gathered there but she blinked up towards the sky and when she lowered her chin again, they'd dried. She sighed softly, her mouth twitching at the corners. He was showing her something, something that rounded his features soft and harmless. But she was not harmless.

She wrapped her arms tighter around herself. Grief swelled up around them, Gillian mourning something not yet even lost. Too good to lose, the two of them. Cal would never let it go.

"I'm sorry that I disappointed you, fell off that pedestal you'd never let me down from before," Gillian said.

Cal blinked slowly. "I forgive you, Gill. I forgive you."

He placed his hand on hers. Forgiving Gillian was simple. She never had ill-intent. Her fingers curled into a hard fist beneath his. Clearly, she had yet to forgive herself. He let go of her hand only to step nearer and wrap his arm low on her back. He rubbed absently as his mind moved over words. Something praiseful, he wanted. Something grateful.

Gillian cocked her head at his expression. The light seemed to dim as she moved just slightly away from his touch, close enough that he could still feel her body's warmth in the gap between them.

"Why is it that I can tell you I've been betraying you for longer than I've known you and you're… God, you're putting me even higher up? I don't get it. I honestly don't." Gillian leaned into his hovering palm despite herself, her arms falling heavily to her sides.

Cal revelled in the perfect pressure of her spine against him and shook off her worries.

"I think you need to refresh yourself on the term, love. You haven't betrayed me. You saved me from something, however misguided. I should be thanking you."

Gillian's eyes darkened, her eyebrows pulling in closer together and lower. She gripped the guardrail, a slight tremor running through her.

"I did a terrible thing, Cal. Can we just admit that so we can move beyond it? Please," she said.

"That'd be a lie," Cal said. "I'd have done far more despicable things to protect Emily. You didn't even know her. But you protected her. You're good, you are. Even if we both did a terrible thing."

Gillian's eyes clouded over. "Or maybe we're just both horrible. Maybe we're both shitty people who deserve nothing better than each other."

Cal's heartbeat sped up at her phrasing and knocked against his ribs. "You know, I'm not the only one who puts someone on a pedestal. You do it too. You do it with me."

Despite the fact she'd just called them both shitty, Gillian blushed. Her lashed fluttered as she looked down, the concrete suddenly intriguing.

"You're a good man," she whispered.

"I'm not. If you're not a bloody angel, then I've not got a good bone in my body. I'd have done worse," he said.

"So would I," Gillian replied. She found his eyes again, how soft they'd gone at the implication. Then, the tears bubbled out. She reached for his hand and he squeezed it without pause.

"What can I do?" She asked. "How do I make you believe me now, know that I'm not still lying? You said I was a blind spot..."

Another chilled wind blew against Cal's face. He pulled Gillian closer, hugging her again until she pushed him away.

"Come inside," he said. "You'll catch cold."

Gillian went with it, hesitating only a second before walking back into the building. Cal thought she would lead him to his office, but he was wrong. Gillian led him through the break room into her own office. He sat down on her couch as she dug out two tumblers and a bottle of scotch. Then she joined him, nudging the bottle in his direction as she folded her feet beneath her. Taking the hint, Cal poured a generous nip into both glasses. Enough that it would bring them peace, even if it also brought a pitiful morning.

"Cal, really, what you did today, with the bomb, even not knowing. You were good, selfless. You protected me even though you knew I was hiding from you."

Cal shook his head, taking a large sip of his drink.

"Gillian, listen to me. What you did, you did out of goodness. And I'd have done worse. I have done worse. I'm not going to hold it against you. I'm gonna keep trusting you to be there for me because that's what you were," Cal insisted.

Gillian leaned back into his chest and Cal wrapped her up in all his warmth. She relaxed against him, limbs falling looser as she waited.

"What have you done that was worse?" she asked.

His battered breath rattled the back of her ribcage as he prepared to speak.

"Everything that went down in Bosnia," he said. "And…"

"That wasn't you. That was so much more than you. You had little choice in it."

It was an attempted comfort but it felt empty. There was something that Cal had had a choice in. He just made the wrong one. And people got hurt, innocent people hurt irreparably. And it was way worse than anything he'd done under the influence of the MI-6. It was way worse than anything.

Cal sighed. "Love, I've made choices. Wrong ones."

He swallowed hard. There were things he hadn't told Gillian, things he only told himself. And though he trusted no one else more, he still felt shame in it. He still wished he'd done differently. He'd been over it time and time again in his head, walking through every possible scenario. He'd made a wrong choice. He kept making that wrong choice. And no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, he still felt it was his fault.

Telling Gillian was something he talked himself into and out of over and over. And he would just remember how innocent she could look, eyes wide and tearful after being attacked. Not one, not two, but more, never safe. Never safe with him. And so he closed his mouth. Hadn't meant to let it come out ever, especially not now. But maybe, maybe it would be good to return the honesty, dark secrets like trading cards.

"Gillian," he said.

At the change in his tone, she stiffened. She turned to him with concern in the pull of her eyebrows, the pools of her irises.

"It's okay," she said, nodding to him. "To tell me."

He sunk lower into the cushion, turning his face from her. It was a tough story. It was a lot. And though he wanted her to know, it was still hard to tell her. The only thing that pushed him towards speaking was the thought that maybe it would get Gillian to understand why he so freely gave her forgiveness, why he couldn't so easily forgive himself.

"You remember that video of my mum? What she said?"

Gillian's mouth pursed as she thought it over. Cal twisted his hands together as he waited.

"She said that she wanted a weekend home to celebrate your dad's birthday."

"Yeah," Cal said. "A weekend to go home to her children, Gill."

Gillian blinked in quick confusion, gone as fast as it appeared.

"You have a sibling," she concluded. "But-"

"I failed her and I failed my mum." He took a few breaths to keep his head from spinning. "I do know the reason my mum killed herself. It was to do with me."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Trigger warning for referenced sexual assault and suicide

Gillian sat forward, turning to see Cal's face. He was examining the back of his hands like they'd suddenly become alien to him. Gillian grasped one of them, forcing him to acknowledge her with a squeeze. He brought his eyes up and Gillian gave him a look that she hoped showed how ridiculous she thought his assertion was, and hopefully her concern too.

"Cal, it wasn't your fault. No matter what happened, there's no blame in it. No one can know all the reasons that contribute to someone taking their life."

He looked like he would roll his eyes or something but after a beat, he just closed them. Gillian bit her tongue and with it, all the platitudes she felt compelled to offer. They just weren't enough. They weren't going to have any effect.

"I know the reasons," Cal said. "If you'll hear them."

Gillian pursed her lips. She didn't think it could be true but sometimes telling the whole story could be cathartic. A good catharsis was something she wouldn't deny him. He didn't get enough opportunity to be emotionally vulnerable, not even with her. So Gillian nodded to him.

While she waited for him to begin speaking, she took a sip of her drink and then a deep breath. She didn't know what to expect, only that it was a heavy burden that clearly remained a struggle for him. So, she'd have to be prepared to share the weight. He'd done it for her tonight with the whole Finch deal. She could do the same, make him believe he wasn't in the wrong.

"I was at uni, Oxford, when it happened. I was eighteen, you know, naïve but convinced I knew everything. And so when she asked me what to do, I thought I knew. I thought I could help her."

He scrubbed his hand over his face, letting off a sigh.

"Laura, she was younger, still home when I went away. And mum was in hospital again. So it was just my dad and her."

Gillian's skin tightened with discomfort as she grasped where he was heading. She fought the shiver climbing her spine and squeezed his hand. The remnant taste of scotch on her tongue made her queasy.

"Love, he did terrible things. He touched her," he said, disgust warping his features. "And she wouldn't do anything about it. She was so afraid. So, when I heard that mum would be visiting…"

The silence was long, heavy. The air felt cloistering. Cal trembled with an emotion Gillian couldn't place. Anger, maybe, or something else. Reading the face wasn't Gillian's best skill. She tried to steady her own hands, didn't want him to stop talking now, not when he was being this honest.

"I wrote a letter to her, mailed it down and made Laura promise to show her. If I couldn't help her, then mum could, right? But she was ill. And I knew that but I didn't think. She was always ill, always in and out of care, so I just didn't think."

Cal leaned back into the cushions, pulling his hand free from hers to drape his arm over the back of the couch.

"Cal," she said softly.

"Laura rang to tell me she gave her the letter and they cried together. Next day, I hear my mum's overdosed on pills, that Laura'd found her. See, Gill, it's me. It was me."

Gillian wanted to cry at the hopeless shame that could be read from his every feature, even by her. He usually was so good at hiding. It almost felt new to see him so raw.

She didn't tell him it wasn't his fault. He simply wouldn't believe her.

"You did what you thought was the best thing, Cal. You did what you thought was right," Gillian said instead.

He winced anyway. Gillian shut her eyes tight for a moment. There was only so much you could train for as a psychologist but as a friend? You couldn't train at all, you could only try. And hope that it was enough.

"The right thing didn't happen," Cal said. "There was no punishment. Laura went to go live with an aunt of ours and my dad ran away from it all. I had nowhere to go until I found Terry. That was just… it just ended."

Gillian pressed her lips into a tight line, unsure what to say. Would he let her hug him? She reached out an arm and wrapped it around his shoulder, giving him the choice of snuggling closer or shifting away. His skin warmed hers once he scooted and Gillian embraced him more fully. A few moments later, she pulled back to look at him.

"Where's Laura now? Why have you never mentioned her?" Gillian prodded.

His face clouded over. What was that?

"Outside of London. She's got a family - husband, kids. We don't really speak much."

"What does that mean?" Gillian asked, pointing out the flicker at his jaw.

"I speak to her husband, emails mostly, with the time difference." Cal ducked his head away from her watching as he spoke.

"You don't speak to Laura at all, do you?" Gillian asked.

Cal closed his eyes. It was answer enough. His only contact with his sister was through a third party. Gillian could hardly even imagine it. Cal had always seemed so family-oriented, so centered on Emily that everything else seemed nothing. For him not to see his sister, he must have felt strongly. He must feel responsible.

"Cal," Gillian said. "I know that I can't possibly understand the dynamics and I don't mean to judge, but don't you want to talk to your sister?"

With the silence that ensued, Gillian shook her head and apologized. "That was… I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. It was exactly as judgemental as I wanted not to be."

Cal didn't look up. He didn't need to.

"I do want to talk to her, know her. I just…"

Gillian smiled. "It's not too late to start forging a relationship. And I'm sure she doesn't blame you the way you blame yourself."

"If I asked you to be with me if I reached out to her, would you come? To London?" Cal was meek and unexpectant, like he was asking her to cut out her left kidney with a butter knife and sell it on the black market. He was asking like it was a sacrifice.

Would it be difficult? Absolutely. But if he was going to be like this, if he was going to talk to her without being afraid of her reactions, then maybe it'd be worth it. And it would support him. Her best friend. Her almost everything.

"Of course I would," Gillian said. "It wouldn't be a hardship."

He took her hand. "Then come, Gillian. I trust you. I need you."

Gillian nodded. Maybe she was wrong after all. Maybe she really could be forgiven for all of her faults if she was what he needed on this trip. Maybe this was exactly what their friendship needed.


	3. Chapter 3

It was two weeks later by the time the two of them were able to make the trip. A case closed quickly left them with a few days of very little work, so they gave responsibilities over to Loker and Torres for a few days. Gillian booked the flight and hotel and drove them to the airport right after they filed the last of the casework. And now, Gillian took the aisle seat on the plane so Cal could sit by the window. He liked to watch DC pass by, and later the land as it faded into gentle ocean waves. He was always so fascinated by the view of the landscape that he'd watch right over Gillian if she were to sit in the window seat. So, at least she was saving her sanity and comfort by giving up the seat. Or that's what she told herself anyway.

Cal wore a neck pillow along his shoulders like a set of headphones and large house slippers pulled on over mismatched socks. Comfort over all else for Cal Lightman. He looked wild and childish but it was so unapologetically himself that she burned with envy. Gillian was dressed down in stretchy jeans and a pullover sweater, having attempted a compromise between comfort and style. It would be an eight-hour flight after all.

Cal stared out the window before the plane even stated moving. The sun had begun to set, blues bleeding orange streaks across a cloudless sky. Gillian thought he might be avoiding looking at her. She had upset him again. She just couldn't censor herself of late, couldn't stop the judgement coming before the empathy settled in. A delayed reaction of sorts. She hoped Cal understood where her intentions were. He understood so much else about her. But she froze up in fear he couldn't really see her. If that's what it was like to be someone's blind spot, if that's what it was like to matter… then, maybe she didn't want that.

She wanted him to see she didn't mean to judge, just didn't yet understand. She'd so romanticized the idea of a protective older brother or comiserative sister that she couldn't imagine not speaking to a sibling. A sibling had to be better than being alone, only having company of adults who didn't want to hear from you, just wanted you to behave. But Cal wasn't her and there were complicating factors. There were reasons. And despite her fundamental understanding, her bias shone through. But she would fix it, she would. She would fix everything she could.

Gillian watched Cal out of the corner of her eye as he stretched and settled into the seat. Though he normally took up a lot of space and tried to be imposing, he was being quite respectful this time. He kept his hands on the armrests and his knees in his own foot space. Gillian aimed a smile at her hands, a closed book held between her fingers. No matter what he said, Cal had always been a good man. Generally obnoxious and sometimes reckless in his pursuits, but good in motive always, just good. Gillian refocused on the words in front of her. She was going to be just as good, as empathetic. She was going to be everything he needed.

The plane ride was mostly spent sleeping. They would arrive in London in the morning so they had to take advantage of the opportunity now or be jet lagged tomorrow. When Gillian woke for the final time, she found she'd rested her head against Cal's shoulder, sharing the neck pillow. She lifted herself upright with a mumbled apology and dug her head deep into the headrest as she stretched her back in an arch. In the time she'd been sleeping, snacks had been passed out. Cal had even taken the initiative to order the coke she would've if she were awake. It rested on the tray beside a bag of pretzels. Gillian pulled open the bag, taking a few before offering some to Cal. He raised his eyebrows and shook his head once, but took a few anyway.

"Thanks love," he said quietly.

Gillian nodded, understanding her silent apology had been accepted too. She placed her hand on his free one for a moment, letting the return of physical affection fuel her as she prepared herself.

"I always wanted a sibling," Gillian said. "A big brother in particular."

Cal's eyebrow shot up.

"Why's that?"

Gillian let out a little breath of a laugh.

"I didn't want to be alone. And I didn't want to need to be strong for anyone else."

Cal's jaw clenched. He blinked quick, maybe thinking of his own little sister, of what it meant to be a big brother.

"I didn't realize it wasn't that simple," Gillian said. "When I was a kid and my dad was drinking, all the hopeful just has to take over or you drown."

Gillian stopped herself. Cal had never heard these things about her family and past. It made her heart pound in her chest and her cheeks heat up. She wanted him to know. If they were going to make any progress towards repairing whatever it was broken between them, she had to be more honest than they had ever been. It had to be reciprocal.

Cal looked at her, squinted. Gillian felt like he could see all the secrets stirring inside her, especially the ones she never wanted to come out. That was him. He made her want to tell him things she didn't want to tell anybody. But he wouldn't ask. At least not without believing she wanted to be prompted. They had an agreement. And Cal mostly stuck by it.

So he didn't say anything. Just gave her a look that said everything and set her heart racing even quicker.

After the plane landed, Cal and Gillian checked into their hotel. They dropped off suitcases and freshened up to go meet Laura and Tom at their home.

They took a cab. Gillian felt antsy as they pulled up to the curb. The house was small but well-kept, a trim lawn and bright garden promising warmth. Children too if the bikes in the grass by the path were anything to go by. Somehow, Gillian hadn't expected children, never even thought to ask. But it made sense. Of course.

Gillian walked up the path behind Cal, watching him wring his hands instead of ringing the bell. She placed her hand on his shoulder.

"Do you want me to...?" she pointed over her shoulder. She could take a walk, give him some time to get talking with his sister. She could disappear if she wasn't wanted.

"No," he said with force, gripping her hand in his. "Please."

Startled by his rawness, she nodded. With her free hand, she rubbed his back until he did reach out and ring the bell.


	4. Chapter 4

Cal thought he was prepared for this but he was entirely wrong. The door swung open and there Laura was stood, half flanked behind the wood as she held it open.

“Hi,” Cal said with a dry mouth.

Laura was alight, smiling all the way to her eyes. Hazel like his. Her hair was a dark contrast, shining nonetheless. She looked like their mother. It smacked the breath out of him.

“Hi Cal,” Laura said with a playful glint in her eyes. “And you must be Doctor Foster. Pleased to meet you.”

“Gillian,” his partner corrected and reached out to shake hands.

Cal watched it all happen before him as if he were outside of his own body. Laura opened the door wider to invite them inside, apologizing in advance for the mess. And he shook his head as if to say it didn't matter and faltered in his step over the lip of the doorway. It was suddenly too real. Him. Here. Breathing damp London air again. Seeing his little sister standing there, similar in so many ways but so different nonetheless. It was strange, seeing someone you'd grown up with all grown up without you. Looking at your sister and seeing a stranger in a familiar cloak.

Gillian touched his hand with all the tenderness in the world and he found his feet again. He walked further into the house and took an appraising glance around. The house was well-lived in rather than messy as Laura'd implied. Cozy and warm. A small living area, with photos on the mantel and a throw blanket tossed over the couch.

Deeper inside, he could hear the others. A deep voice, most likely Tom's, and the higher pitches filling in the spaces. They came out to meet them, the two little girls clinging to their father’s legs. Cal looked away briefly, focusing on a picture of Laura laughing with a baby in her arms. He could feel Gillian's eyes on him, gave her a reassuring smile before introducing himself to Tom and the girls.

The girls were primary school-aged. Rosie and May. They smiled shyly and said hello at Tom's prompting. But when Gillian smiled at them, they got giddy. And soon they were pulling her off to same game of fairies or tea party or something. He hadn't heard. And Tom was sneaking away into the kitchen. And suddenly it was just Laura and him. Alone. With so much to talk about neither knew where to start.

Lucky for him, Laura had some guts. And she spoke into the silence.

“You're looking well,” she said as she sat cross-legged on the sofa and gestured for him to take the empty cushion. “What are you getting up to these days?”

Cal went over and sat. Very still.

“I don't know what you know,” Cal apologized in advance. “I'm working for myself, with Foster, she's my partner. We specialize in deception, looking at facial expressions, body language, voice. That general arena of knowledge.”

“Partner?” Laura asked with a glint in her eye.

Cal blinked hard. “Not like that. I'm divorced. A bachelor. Bloody handsome one at that.”

Finding the space to joke made the tension in his chest ease up. He could do this. He could have this conversation.

Laura nodded, freeing him the topic. “I'll have to show you where I'm working now. I'm a bookkeeper, manage a shop in the city.”

Cal could remember how much Laura had loved books, or did still. She used to leave books all over the house only to bellyache if he touched them. When Tom had told him what Laura did for work, he hadn't been at all surprised.

“Laura,” Cal said. “I just want to get out that I'm sorry. I'm sorry I left the way I did and that I never kept up with you. You deserve a brother who makes an effort, yeah? And I want to be that now.”

Laura flashed surprise then melted into a thoughtful frown.

“You know, I was so mad at you back then. I didn't understand anything except I was alone. But the older I got, the more I got it. And I forgive you.”

“I abandoned you when you needed someone. And I know what that feels like.”

Laura nudged his shoulder.

“You could just say thank you and move on.”

Cal grinned. “Alright then.”

“Have you and _Foster_ had anything to eat?”

Cal rolled his eyes. Of course. This was what he'd been missing, the casual torment of siblings teasing each other.

“No, actually. We haven't.”

They ate a late breakfast in the kitchen and got to know each other. Cal slung his arm over the back of Gillian's chair and they took turns sharing work stories, laughing all the way. Gillian had glitter on her cheek, some remnant of whatever play little girls got up to. He smiled as he swiped it away only for it to stick to his skin instead.

Belly laughter, crinkling eyes, Cal knew it was real. And even if there was more to address, which there definitely was, somehow he imagined it'd all be okay. He'd been blessed with the most gracious people surrounding him, people for which forgiveness wasn't a feat. Lucky, he was, incredibly lucky.

Hours later, Cal and Gillian finally left with the promise to meet Laura and Tom for dinner. Just the adults. They'd go out on the town, have their fun. And then, tomorrow, their last day here, _that's_ when Cal would bring them back round to this morning. That's when Cal would finish delivering his most sincere apology.

And maybe it would be enough.

For the moment, Cal slid the hotel key into the slot. He opened the door wide for Gillian to pass through. He followed her into the room, closing the door behind them.

Gillian sat cross legged at the foot of her bed. Cal hovered across the room.

“You want to use the bathroom? Get ready?”

“Okay,” Gillian said. “I hung up your shirts and jacket.”

The implication was clear; don't dress like a bum.

So when Gillian closed the door, a grey dress in hand, Cal let out a breath. He shrugged out of his sweater. Pulled his arms through a navy blue shirt and did the buttons. He missed one the first time, had to undo half the length of them and try again. He switched out his shoes, too, for the nicer ones, and sat down to wait.

Not long after, he hoped Gillian was done so he could just swish out his mouth. He could feel the day's meals like a layer of grime. It made him feel dirty. So he knocked.

“Come in,” she said.

Cal gently pushed open the door. Another thing he wasn't prepared for.

The ends of her hair had a bounced curl to them. He hadn't seen her bring in any hair tools. She was leaned over the counter, darkening up her eyeshadow. The stretch of her spine was visible as her zipper was undone.

“Do you… can I help you zip up?” Cal asked from the doorway.

“Yes please,” she said, putting down the brush.

Cal walked closer, almost able to feel the tension in the air. He pressed his hands to Gillian's shoulders until her muscles loosened up. The blade dug into his palm as she gathered her hair in one hand and lifted it out of the way. Cal held the panels of her dress together with one hand and pulled the tiny zipper up with the other. He reached his hands into the top to pull together the hook and eye, feeling the shiver up Gillian's spine as he stepped away.

“All done,” he said.

“Thanks,” Gillian said.

It was a minute before she turned around, but there were no traces of embarrassment on her face. She smiled at him and brushed past to retrieve her shoes.

“Hurry up,” she said. “We're late.”

“Right then,” Cal said. He brushed his fingers through his hair and draped his light sports coat over his arm. “Okay.”

He forgot what he needed in the bathroom.


End file.
